


Enough?

by jillyfae



Category: Stay? - E. Jade Lomax
Genre: F/F, F/M, Found Family, Gen, Introspection, POV Second Person, Time Loop, canon typical trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jillyfae/pseuds/jillyfae
Summary: Sometimes all you need is a second chance.Sometimes you get too many of them.A story around the story, about the weight of choices and of consequences that no one else remembers.
Relationships: Female PC/Gemma Ossani
Comments: 8
Kudos: 11





	Enough?

It's your fourth or fifth life by the time you decide to write everything down. 

You didn't at first because obviously you won't be able to _keep_ whatever you write. It'll all be gone each time you wake up; everything's always _gone._ But you find it helps. It's something new that's also familiar: the shape of the letters, dark ink on pale paper. Always the same.. (Unlike you, unlike them.) Remembering those words, what you learned despite what's changed, what soft bright moments linger in your memory, it all helps to keep the despair and panic at bay, helps you to remember to keep moving forward, despite the years that have passed.

And passed.

(You have to remember the _words,_ the history, the magic, the things Myka and Jo will want to know once you're done. If you're ever done.)

The hardest part is Suzette. 

You don't know what to say about her, not even to yourself, not even on pages no one else will ever see, pages in books that will cease to exist in a decade, give or take, depending on how the world works this time. 

But you keep trying. 

You wake up, and you go out to start your "new" life, and she waves at you, bright and young and hopeful, and you remember the smell of smoke, and it takes everything in you not to wince. 

You loved her once.

You married her, that first life you lived, (the first life you remember living, the last life the _other_ Jo influenced. You wonder what Jo's first life was like; you hate that you'll never know). 

Suzette meant everything to you.

And then the world ended.

You woke up back at the beginning of it all, and you went outside, and she looked at you and she didn't _know_ you, not really, she didn't remember any of it. (It hurts worse than dying, that look in everyone's eyes. You wonder if that's why the _other_ Jo had to stop, too many memories, too many people who looked at them and didn't _see._ You wonder what memories they lost in your eyes, over however many lives they lived. You wonder how long you'll last until it's too much for you, as well.)

You can't survive that look, (not yet, not that first time), you run away as far as you can, away from everywhere you might see Suzette, or Jo, poor soft beautiful Jo who's nothing like you remember from the last ten years and everything like they were _before._

You throw yourself into combat training. There's a war coming, after all, a war only you know about, a war that you're going to have to survive, _again_ , if you're ever going to learn about that comet. 

You don't learn anything about the war or the comet.

You ran away, and you weren't there to help Suzette, to stop her before it was too late.

She killed you.

(She may have killed the whole world, unless that version of Jo figured out the Gem in time. Even then, she'd still be there, poisoning the earth like Veris poisons the water, unless someone figured out her wish. That's a nightmare that lingers between lives, the darkness that used to be Suzette and the darkness that used to be Veris, both of them still _there,_ still growing, the poison spreading until no one can stop them, until nothing's left. You can't help but wonder how long it takes.)

You wake up screaming.

Poor Jo gets you water, and you want to cry for all the years until the comet comes. 

(You don't.)

You loved Suzette once, but you can't feel it now, under the terror and the grief and the guilt. Because she didn't turn like that when you were there with her, there for her, but you _can't..._

You can't do that again.

You loved her. You know you did, you remember the glow of morning light through the windows and the way she smiled when it warmed her skin. You remember the scratch of a pen and the rustle of paper as she worked too late into the night, the warmth from the dying fireplace glinting in her eyes as she lifted her head to apologize when you caught her. But you can't _feel_ it, not anymore. 

Because you loved her, and then you feared her, feared for her as much as you were scared of her, and even now, knowing enough that you can make sure it never happens again, you can never forget what it felt like, that first death far and away the worst of them all. 

But you're getting ahead of yourself.

Can you get ahead of yourself?

Time is such a strange concept, now.

It always was, you guess, but of course you hadn't lived it before, you didn't know.

This hasn't happened yet. Will not happen again, and yet is always a breath away from you, waiting for you just two steps into the future. 

It hurt. 

Before she killed you, it hurt, seeing the black pouring from her, the blood, the red of her eyes, the _burning..._

The first time you killed her wasn't better, the way the color bled back into her eyes just in time for everything that made her Suzette to fade away. 

But it wasn't worse, and you suppose that's progress, of a sort. 

You threw yourself into studying magic, those first few lives after Suzette, trying to understand, trying to save her. 

(Magic never saved her. You could _stop_ her, but it was only when you grew tired, when you studied history beside her again, that you figured out how to _help,_ how to be there for her _before_ the magic.)

But you haven't learned that yet. 

Instead you still think you have to fight alone.

You fail.

You fail to stop the war.

Esteban dies.

(And dies, _and dies._ You think part of him believes that that's all he's good for, sacrifice. You know the feeling. You hate that feeling.)

Myka dies.

(She lasts a little longer, but it's never long enough.)

You're too angry now, you blow the dam and probably kill the world, letting Veris out of her watery prison. 

(Eventually you blow the dam and that's the one saves the world, even as it injures it. You set Veris _free_ , hear Myka's laugh, your favorite of all her laughs, find the word you need, _at last._ Still you add to your nightmares, will never forget the sound of the water pouring down the valley. You'll never feel right about the price you made other people pay in that timeline, in that attempt, especially because you know you wouldn't, couldn't undo it. And not just because that was the life you spent with Myka. You loved her, and lost her, and it's worse than Suzette because there's no universe where she scares you, and yet... 

You can't make yourself try again. Can't let her know how much she means to you, can't let yourself mean more to her than...

But you're getting ahead of yourself again, that hasn't happened yet either.)

You get lost. You find yourself. You try again.

You slow the war, blunt its edges, save Suzette and watch her save more lives, watch them save more again, until you meet the _other_ Mister Pent, and you wonder how many times he died, alone and separated from his husband, during Jo's lives, during yours. 

_Never again,_ you promise yourself. 

Suzette and Esteban get married, and it reminds you of the way she used to look at you. You remember the way she used to smile, that first time, the last time the two of you meant something more than missed opportunities to each other, the last time you didn't spend your life watching and waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the darkness to overwhelm her. 

She deserves better than that. 

You hope she's found it, but... there's still something brittle behind her eyes, and that could be the war, no one escapes war unscathed, but... 

Esteban never paints for her, and you're almost relieved when the comet comes, when the world ends and you have to try again.

You kill the woman you used to love, by accident this time. 

You destroy the comet, and it still destroys the world.

You can't survive that again, you can't kill her, can't... 

You let yourself live a life with Esteban, smile at the paint caught between his fingers, but it's only bearable because you know it's temporary. 

(You all deserve better.)

The world ends, and you try again. 

It's easier now, to write about Suzette, and Esteban, and Myka. To remember all the times you've _saved_ people, but it's not enough. You still keep losing. 

The hardest part is lifting that pen again, each new life, because once you do you know you're going to have to live it all again.

The strangest part is Jo. 

You're thankful for that diary, however much it hurts to open anew, thankful that you keep writing and rewriting, thankful that you can remember the words you wrote before, even when you can't remember the thing that first inspired them. 

Even with your salvaged words you can only vaguely remember that _other_ Jo, the version of them that had lived too long, that took you to the end of the world when they were too tired to try again. You try not to wonder how many lives they'd lived, what you were to each other in them, that you were the one they chose at the end. You wonder if you'll ever know why, ever know that they made the right choice, if someone else would've been better, could've figured this out faster. 

You wonder what happened in all those timelines that _this_ you never lived.

You hope that the _other_ Jo was happy, in the life they chose to keep.

(When you're almost done, almost ready, when you've seen so many sides of them, scholar and rebel and savior, you wonder if the _other_ Jo ever lived by the sea like they did when you dragged them south. You wonder if they ever took care of a town, so far from Elaia, in all those lives they lived before you can remember. You wonder if they lived a life like that with you, or if they had someone else, someone you don't know how to find for them.)

You love them, that _other_ Jo who's so far away from you now, long gone and never to be found, that Jo who lived a life like you're living, who woke up every five, ten, fifteen years in a body that was suddenly too small.

They're the other half of your soul, you think, friend and partner and soulmate, the only other person who could bear this weight...

But _this_ Jo doesn't know it.

They never will, not really, not even if you tell them about it, and some day, when it's finally _enough,_ the world will have been saved and it will be because of them, because of what they did on their own, because of what they did to you, _for you,_ and they won't remember. 

(You fuck off and live with a blacksmith the life after you realize that. You save no one, and nothing, but your heart heals in your small quiet village, and the world ends, and you try again.)

Suzette and Tereza get married, and it's perfect. They fit together like they were meant to be, they make each other happy, they make each other _better._

You'd loved her once, as had Esteban, you'd been happy, they'd been happy, but it wasn't like _that._ Sometimes, you've learned, love isn't enough. Suzette's mother loves her, after all, but she does it so badly her daughter almost (sometimes) destroys the world. You'd loved Suzette, and Myka, and Esteban, once you'd healed enough to try again, and you love them still, will always love them, but it isn't _enough,_ and you're not sure why. They deserved better than who you were with them, who they were with you, and you're starting to realize that _you_ deserve better too.

Jo had maybe loved you, that _other_ Jo, as friend or family or something else entirely, you don't know, _you'll never know,_ but it hadn't been enough to make them keep going, to try and build that love again. 

You don't know enough to stay in this world that gave you Suzette and Tereza and Tereza's _scones,_ you don't know how to save it.

Yet.

You try again. 

You wonder, as you start another diary, who could possibly fit next to you now that you've lived too many lives, now that your soul is too old for your body. You're afraid to try with Jo, for all they're the one you always think about, that endless _what if_ and _why_ that none of the versions of Jo you know will ever be able to answer. 

_Why me, why you, why us?_

_This_ Jo will never be _that_ Jo. 

You stop the comet properly, and for a moment you think _I'm done._

But you remember Jo, your Jo, _other_ Jo, who said they'd stopped it so many times and kept trying, and you're not entirely sure what they were trying for, but they passed this trial on to you for that, for this for...

For something you haven't found yet.

You try again.

Esteban commits treason with you this time. The war never happens. He's beautiful by the sea shore, salt in his hair and sunlight in his eyes. You love him, as you've loved him for lifetimes, as you love them all, your friends, the family you've claimed, for all you seldom get to tell them that out loud, the four of them shifting and changing around you and still the only constant that matters. 

You've stopped the war, but it's not _enough,_ and you don't try to go back to stop the comet. 

The hardest part at first was Suzette, then it was getting out of bed over and over again, but now it's just you, and _how will you know when it's enough._

You can sometimes beat Ossani at cards, and you try not to think how many years it took until you could. (Wonder a little at the strength of her soul, that she can stand up to the weight you know hides in your eyes.) You meet her at the party that once destroyed the world, and she never recognizes you. It aches, that look, the blank question in her eyes as she's introduced to a stranger, and you think of the way the _other_ Jo looked at you during that first life so long ago. 

You remember card games in the middle of the night when you and Ossani were both off watch, remember the way she strode silently between the trees when on patrol, remember the way water dripped down her skin after a swim on the mountainside. 

You remember how she talked about the war in terms of how _we failed them,_ and you wish, just once, that she'd look at you as if she remembered all those card games too, remembered the words she'd shared with you under the cover of darkness.

But no one you look at remembers you. 

You're almost done, you realize. You're not going to be able to do this much longer. You think, in fact, that this may be it. One last try.

Jo doesn't remember that you promised to give them a library, but you do.

You remember all your promises. 

You settle back into studying history; it's been awhile, and it was your first love. You still love it, even now. There's even more of it than there is of you, and something about that soothes. 

Esteban helps you "steal" the gem, and there's paint between his fingers again.

You meet Gemma, and she doesn't remember, but she looks at you and she sees the darkness in you, and she doesn't flinch. (She's never flinched. You think, if the _other_ Jo had known her, had chosen her, the world would've been saved a dozen lifetimes ago. You can’t wish for that, though, because then... then you never would have become the person who gets to stand beside her.)

Jo helps you commit treason again, and they're so damn good at it you want to laugh. 

Suzette helps too, covers for you, saves you, lets you come back home again, and her eyes shine when you see her again, no shifting glances as she tries to hide the cracks inside.

You're home again, thanks to her. Thanks to Jo, and Myka, and Esteban.

You have a home, thanks to them, and Gemma, and _both_ Misters Pent, and the weight you've been carrying for too many years to count finally settles, finally eases. 

_It's enough._

You compliment Tereza’s scones and Esteban’s art, you tell your friends about everything else this time, share your diaries, your research, teach Myka and Mr. Pent about Fiore, let Gemma hold you when the nightmares linger.

Jo comes with you to stop the comet.

You stay. 


End file.
